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1 Apr 2022
Sue
Finch
New
Moon
Apr 16th
Her Dress
Mar 18th
After Louise Richardson’s
Spun Cobwebs and Thorns
She’s gone.
And you have asked for her dress.
They want to tell you to go home.
Glancing at one another
across the wide silence,
each wants to shift the decision
to the next.
You hear someone say they will need time.
Pinned out
it offers you the shape of her –
the place where her arm would have lifted
in a dance, brings tears.
What you really want
is the scent of her,
but in the darkest nights
only the moon has witnessed it
diluting, fading.
You will not eat for days now;
thorns tighten your throat,
cold earth fills your nostrils.
All you can taste
is feathers on abandoned cobwebs.
Behind the poem...
I first encountered Louise Richardson’s piece Spun Cobwebs and Thorns at a workshop with the poet Pascale Petit. One of that day's activities was to choose from among the postcards Pascale had brought along one that we felt might act as a stimulus for writing a poem. I loved the delicate darkness of Louise Richardson's creation, and knew immediately that I wanted to write something to accompany such a powerful piece of art.
